


Of black wood and stone.

by nykvos



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Game of Thrones Fusion, Intersex Loki, M/M, Thor's too sweet for his own good, Vaginal Sex, Witch Loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 11:26:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15314478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nykvos/pseuds/nykvos
Summary: Thor finds a man hidden in the snow, many many years ago.





	Of black wood and stone.

Hidden away in the upended tangling roots, he laid there. The storm of before had calmed to snowflakes, prickling at Thor’s face with the sharp quick cold, sticking to his furs, his boots coated with white of the walk. Other than his own disturbing steps, the forest floor is a stretch of snowy untouched slopes, and there, within the white, laid the bundle of man. He must’ve been there before the storm, or had fallen during the thick of it, because the snow is unforgiving and covers him in its layers. Thor is hesitant to approach for, in his young life, he has never seen a dead man up close, but he approaches, the snow crunching under his boots as he does. The man doesn’t move, doesn’t acknowledge him because he must be dead, Thor reasons while his heart quickens, and when he stands there at the mouth of the roots, he stares hard at the snow stained raven hair and pale skin just peeking out of the dark furs it wore and steps closer.

Thor touches his shoulder. Cold sinks into his fingers and Thor lets out a foggy breath of relief, then looks to the man’s face and almost screams. Green eyes, open, staring at him, and Thor falls back. The being doesn’t move, but simply looks at him with upturned eyes as Thor tries to sit up and once he does, he hears the man laugh lightly and color rises in Thor’s cheeks.

“Praise be,” came the voice of air from in between the roots, “that I see this sight before I die.”

The man then shifts and hisses while Thor gathers his bearings, the snow crunches beneath his hands, and when he does find voice, he replies rather lamely, “I thought…you… Are… Are you dead?”

“Well, not yet,” the man said.

“Not yet,” said Thor back, then scurries to get up. “-Then, help- I should get help!”

The man smiles as Thor looks around frantically for the direction to run. The man shakes his head, and says, “I’ll be dead before you return. Leave me, young one, and forget you saw me.”

“But I can’t,” Thor said, apprehensively. He didn’t want this man to die—or anyone for that matter—but he saw what he meant. There isn’t anyone for miles and winter had started. But he still tries.  “You need help.”

As if the man had understood his desperation, he spent a moment in thought underneath that snow and fur and then said, “Then leave me your coat to keep me warm for the night and come back tomorrow.”

“I’ll bring help tomorrow,” Thor then insists.

“Then I’ll die.”

Thor furrows his brows. “I don’t understand.”

The man smiles. “You don’t need to.”

 

-

 

Thor has only ever known the fortress that was his home. He is the heir of the Borson name, the young son of the Lord that resides in the north. He’s heard stories that his nurse would tell him, tales of magic and fae, of dragons and giants, of the creatures of the night that would eat him up if he strays too far from home. They eat bad little boys, she would tell him at night, so be good and they’ll leave you be.

Thor believed it. He was to be the next protector, so he must protect. So with his sword at his hip and a bag full of stolen sweets, he sought them out.

He had instead found a man who has yet to give his name.

“How are you alive?” Thor asks instead, deciding that was far more important than identity. “The cold should kill you.”

The man wipes his mouth and smiles at him. “It’ll take more than a bit of snow to kill me,” he said, then takes another bite of sweet bread that Thor had given him.

The man had remained in the nestle of tree roots. He looks better, Thor decides, far less pale than before. He still refuses Thor to bring help, no matter what Thor had said of the warm bed and food he’ll receive. They’re a good people, Thor had reasoned, they’ll help you.

(“You truly are young,” he had said instead. The matter was dropped.)

Thor makes a face, which the man laughs at. His eyes are bright, sharp, taking Thor in. “Worry not, young one, with you as my nurse I’ll be fine.”

It became an odd relationship. Thor would sneak away when he was finished with training to the nameless man deep in the woods and sit. They talked and Thor became awed to what the man had to say. He spoke tales, insisting of their truth because he had been there, always. Thor would shake his head because the man talked of things beyond the years, there was no way he had lived that long. Yet he talked and Thor listened, until the sun began to dip and Thor would hurry on home with a promise that he’ll return.

Until one day the man was gone.

 

-

 

The mark of an ending childhood was what became of the stranger’s disappearance, it was the only explanation. Then trouble boiled over by the years of brewing that Thor had no idea of, and when it finally reared its head, it made sense. It made sense of his training in all forms of battle, made sense of the ravens flying in and out, made sense of the whispers in the barracks that grew with more men with each new day. Thor had been a child back then, but not anymore.

Years and decades later, he had all but forgotten the stranger of his past, pushed it as a childish fantasy that his old nurse had fed with her stories. There were no time for stories anymore. Just war and its brutalities.

The brutalities now that leaves him bleeding, dying on a muddy field in the aftermath.

The next time he awakens, he realizes that isn’t the case.

There’s warmth surrounding him, it’s the first thing he notices before he opens his eyes. When he does, he’s greeted by the sight of a small fireplace near his bedside and a cosy cottage room. _Ah_ , he thinks, _I’m alive_.

He tries to sit up but his abdomen’s hot with pain, so he settles by resting on the leverage of his elbows, looking more in the cottage room. Before he really could, there is a voice, “You really shouldn’t be up.”

Thor turns to it and his eyes widen.

Without the vision of snow and furs, it wouldn’t mistake on who he was. It was the same man looking no different than from those years ago. He settles himself down on the stool next to Thor’s bed, setting down a bowl of water and a rag beside the bedside on the stand. “No hello?” he teases, his voice just as light and unchanged, and Thor feels at a lost for what to say.

The man doesn’t take offence to his silence, instead chuckles at it as he pushes his sleeves up to his elbows and strains the wet rag. “I thought you wouldn’t remember me,” the man said. He places a hand on Thor’s shoulder and guides him down on the bed. “Lay down for me.”

Thor does and the man starts washing him, beginning at his arms then going up. Thor finally finds it in him to speak. “Where...am I?”

“In my home. I believe I haven’t even heard a thank you yet,” huffs the man, but Thor could hear the slight tease backed into his voice.

Still, Thor thanks him. Then said, “You’re really him, aren’t you.”

The man replies, “And no other.”

“You never did tell me your name,” Thor said. “You left before I could. Why did you leave? Why are you helping me now?”

The man pauses, resting his hand against his breast, then continues. “Let me tell you a story, perhaps you know this one,” he said. “A boy wanders into the forest. The boy has no weapons, has no food, no supplies to really trek through the trees. He had a training sword but that hardly counts for it is dull and heavy and if the boy were to come across bandits, he would be as good as dead. Yet the boy wanders into the forest. Why?”

Thor answers, “The boy wanted to find adventure.”

“And why did the boy want to find adventure?”

“The boy’s been told so much of the magic and the beasts so much unlike our own.”

The man smiles. “Now you’re getting it. Yes, the boy wanders into a forest and finds none of the sworn tales, instead he finds a fallen man at a base of a tree. What does this boy do to this man?”

“He helps him.” The man flicks him. “Ow!”

The man pays no heed to Thor’s discontent and asks again, “What does this boy do to this man?”

Thor, not wanting another flick, answers, “The boy tries to help him, but the man doesn’t want it. The boy gives him his coat and promises to return.”

“That the boy does. The boy does as promised and returns many times, nursing the man to health from his brick of death. The boy never asks the man for his name or where he had come from, perhaps he should’ve because the man was dangerous, far more dangerous than any of the tales the boy had ever heard. Yet, the boy asks for nothing and never discovers the danger he was in.” At some point, the man had set aside the rag and Thor didn’t realize how close he was until his damp hand touches the side of his face. It’s awe what Thor feels spike in him, and he is helpless.

“Who...who are you?”

The man answers, “I am Loki, the witch beyond the wall, and you saved my life many years ago.”

_A witch_.

The man—the witch— _Loki_ is pressing him down again. The stool scraps harshly against the floor and Loki is on him, with a leg looped over either side of Thor, hovering over, mindful of the injuries littering his torso. “For that, I give you a boon,” Loki said. His hands are cupping Thor’s face now, lifting his chin to look at him better. This… Thor can’t wrap his head about it, but Loki only smiles at his confusion. His voice takes a soft turn as he speaks, “I know who you are, Thor Borson, Lord of the North. They left you to die out there, betrayed and at death’s door. Your kindness and honor were your downfall, in the end, and they stepped all over it.”

Thor remembers but he doesn’t know how Loki knows.

“How do you know that—?” Thor’s voice catches in his throat when Loki rests his head against Thor’s own, when their breaths began to share. Green, his eyes are so green.

“I’ll help you, Thor, because you helped me. The throne will be yours and I’ll make you king.”

_King._

Thor had been betrayed. In the mists of battle, it wasn’t the sigils of the enemy that stuck him down, but a familiar golden handled knife sinking deep into him again and again and again, and he fell.

He doesn’t want to think, not of the bloody battlefield nor the nest of liars of court, he only wants to think of the body on him, wanting him. In the haze of childhood, Thor remembers when he had left. He doesn’t know if it had been his own lonely childhood or Loki’s magic that left his heart full of disappointment when he had gone. In the end, he turned those memories into a fantasy, but now, here he was. So Thor does what he wants and kisses him.

_Make me king_ , Thor almost wishes to say. _Make me King and I’ll vow myself to you._

And like Loki had heard, he deepens the kiss. Thor’s hands find perch on his thighs, and even then he can feel the richness of the breeches, until his hands stop at the curve of his hips and he grips as much a sick man could. Loki hums with appreciation then breaks the kiss. Thor can only watch helplessly as Loki raises and unlaces Thor’s breeches with care, dipping his hand inside to rub against his cock.

“I’ll be yours’,” Loki said. “To serve you however need be. Take the boon and you will have everything.”

Thor gasps. The cloths covering his legs vanish and now Thor can feel the skin of his bare body. He lets his fingers dig in, savoring the hissed sound from above. He answers, with everything. “ _I will_.”

And Loki bears down on him, gasping. Hot, wet, pulling him in and Thor gasps from not expecting the suddenness as Loki fills himself with cock. Thor quickly looks down and scrunches his brows together when he sees the pink erect cock between Loki’s legs, not able to add up why he felt so much like a—

Loki takes his own cock as he bounces himself up and down, stroking in time with each wet slide and when Thor sees no balls but pink plump flesh stretching thin from all of Thor does he finally groans from understanding. Loki didn’t just possess a cock but there beneath the small erection laid a hot tight cunt that squeezes Thor with each upward stroke while all he could do is groan and hold onto Loki as tight as he could. Thor ultimately decides he hates being injured.

With suddenly another reason to hate being injured, Thor gripped once again at Loki’s hips, desperately saying, “Ah— _Loki,_  I’ll-”

Loki’s response comes in the form of another roll of his hips.

Thor, again, is helpless.

Coming down, Thor didn’t realize he had closed his eyes until a hand cups his cheeks and he opens them again to see Loki watching him, expectingly. “Will you really make me king?”

Loki kisses him. Thor savors the heat. “Aye,” Loki then said, against his lips, “Aye, I will, it is fated. Now sleep, my King.”

“Stay by my side,” Thor manages to say as sleep dampens his mind. “Please, promise me you will.”

“I will,” Loki answers but Thor had already fallen in deep sleep. He doesn’t see the smile on Loki’s face or hear what he says next. “And the kingdoms will burn.”

**Author's Note:**

> Loki plays the long game. 
> 
> yell at me at twitter: vonrwa


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